


Four Times Peter Calls Tony His Husband

by high_functioning_timelord



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 4 Things, Adult Peter Parker, Awkward Peter Parker, Dorks in Love, Getting Together, Hurt Tony Stark, IN SPACE!, M/M, Protective Tony Stark, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_functioning_timelord/pseuds/high_functioning_timelord
Summary: Four times Peter calls Tony his husband, and one time Tony calls Peter his.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 166





	Four Times Peter Calls Tony His Husband

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in some nebulous, hand wavy time frame. Peter is 18 at the start of the fic and Tony is alive, but otherwise nothing else is really mentioned. Was Tony resurrected, or did he just never die in the first place? Did the Blip even happen?? Who knows! Up to you.

1.

The first time, it was a total accident. Well, maybe more like a Freudian slip. But aren’t those supposed to be about your mother? Whatever. The point is, Peter didn’t do it on purpose. Like, at all.

Tony was being overprotective, again. Yammering on about how Peter had been reckless, an idiot, total disregard for his safety, blah blah blah. But Peter was 18 now. He didn’t have to answer to anybody, and especially not someone who wasn’t even related to him. Sure, he respected Mr. Stark, probably more than anyone else in the entire universe, but he wasn’t about to apologize for saving all those kids, even if it did mean he’d jumped off a 20-story building.

“Peter! You could have DIED!” Tony yelled, the walls reverberating at the sound. “Seriously, I have half a mind to have Karen put you on house arrest! Maybe _then_ you can think about what you’ve done and-”

Peter had scoffed at that, petulant, unrepentant. As if Tony thinking he could boss Peter around was the most ridiculous thing in existence. Which it was.

“ _Really_ , Mr. Stark? You're gonna _ground_ me? What are you, my-”

Now, Peter should’ve said “father,” "dad," or even “parent” here. "Uncle" may have even been appropriate, in Peter's case. Those words are all totally normal, acceptable alternatives to “mother.” But he didn’t. Of he didn’t. That would’ve been entirely too easy, and harmless, and definitely not-awkward. None of which describes Peter’s life in the slightest.

So instead, what his stupid, useless brain offered up was, “What are you, my _husband_?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Peter’s eyes shot open.

“Wait! No! That’s- I didn’t- That came out wrong!”

Tony blinked, processing what he’d just said. Then recognition slowly dawned, sparking a smile that became a giggle, which turned into a chuckle, and finally broke into full-on, hysterical laughter.

Peter definitely preferred being yelled at.

Tony wheezed, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. “Seriously kid, in what universe do husbands _ground_ each other? Well — actually, I have been known to put a handsome guy or two on a time-out, once in a blue moon, but that usually involves more-"

“Oh my god, _no_. Please, stop!” Peter hid is face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, please, just-”

“Kid, relax. It’s fine. Really. Flattering, even,” he shrugged, as if the idea of his 18-year-old mentee referring to him as his _husband_ wasn’t the weirdest thing on the entire fucking planet.

“Can we _please_ just forget about this?” Peter begged. “Like, forever? _Please_?”

“Alright, alright.” Tony held his hands up in mock surrender, swallowing his laughter. “If you insist."

Peter sighed, relieved, letting his shoulders unclench from where they’d risen up practically to his ears.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony threw an arm around his shoulder, casual, platonic, _normal,_ as he steered them down the hall towards the elevator.

“Anytime, _hubs_.”

**

2.

The next time it happened was on a mission, and it wasn't even Peter's idea.

The Guardians had dropped them of on a strange purple planet, sprinkled with sprawling, technicolour buildings nestled throughout the lush alien vegetation.

“Ah,” Tony exhaled deeply. “Usually when they say 'retreat’ I assume they’re pulling my leg, but this is… Yeah, I could handle this for a couple days. Whatd’ya say, kid?”

“Uh huh,” Peter murmured, distracted. He still wasn’t sure why he had to be the one to do this.

Okay, fine, he knew exactly why. Fury had explained it all during a way-too-long meeting, listing off every excruciating, embarrassing detail, in front of all the other Avengers. How Peter's enhanced senses and climbing capabilities, plus Tony’s covert technology and compact fire power, were both totally essential for this exact mission. A mission which just so happened to be on a tiny little planet in the Alpha Quadrant: Asir, home of the galaxy-famous Interplanetary Couple's Retreat.

As they wandered over to the check-in area, Mr. Stark reached over and caught Peter’s hand, rubbing his thumb lightly across the back of it. Peter stared at their hands, clutched awkwardly together, and felt a flush creep up the back of his neck.

“C’mon kid, loosen up,” Tony nudged him. “We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember?“

“Right. Sorry.” Peter wasn’t about to admit that it'd be a heck of a lot easier to 'pretend' to be in love with him if he wasn’t already so busy pretending he wasn't _actually_ madly in love with him. Minor details.

The blindingly pink humanoid at the check in counter greeted them warmly, with that detached familiarity that apparently all receptionists have, even in space.

“Hi, I’m P-Peter Parker. This is my, uh, h-husband, Tony,” Peter fumbled, nervously twirling the fake wedding band around his finger.

The humanoid behind the desk gave him what appeared to be a disapproving look (or maybe he was just projecting?) but said nothing. The receptionist clicked a few buttons behind the counter, then handed them their key cards, matching lanyard-like objects, and a map of the grounds.  
  
As they shuffled their bags down the hall towards their room, Peter spotted their target: an overgrown, dusty green alien with a few too many sets of arms. The target tapped his key against his door, the room directly next to Peter & Tony’s, then disappeared inside, leaving them alone in the hallway. Okay, good. Everything was going according to plan. So far.

“Don’t worry,” Tony whispered, catching Peter’s worried expression. “Just a few more days of pretending you like me, then we can ditch this luxury garden center.”

“Yeah. Right.” Peter nodded. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

As Peter tapped the key card on their door and swung it open, his stomach dropped. Nope. It was definitely gonna be bad.

A single queen bed sat along the far wall of their room, and there was no sofa, or even a padded chair, in sight. Tony strode in confidently, apparently completely unbothered by this arrangement.

 _Right,_ Peter sighed. _Just a few days._

***

3.

“Mr. Stark!”

A familiar voice drifted through his drug-induced haze. Then a face, worried (and wet?) coming into focus somewhere above his head. Tears, right. Those were tears.

“Kid? What are you- how- why did they let you in here?” Tony rambled incoherently, words slurring together as his mouth tried to fight against the "good stuff" he’d convinced them to put in his IV drip.

Peter’s face shifted, worry becoming hesitation, hesitation becoming guilt. “I uh… sort of told them I’m your husband?” Peter smiled weakly, shrugging. “I mean, no one on this planet has no idea who you are, so it seemed like it’d work, and-”

“Jesus, how long have we been fake-married now? Seven-ish years? There's a movie about that, right?” Tony wondered aloud, trying and failing to hide his smirk. Peter caught a glimpse of it and smiled back, both thrilled and relieved that they’d somehow managed to create their own little running joke out of the whole "accidentally calling Tony his husband" thing. Especially since that particular incident had a habit of popping up during his brain's nightly review of “Peter's Greatest Fuck-Ups."

“Whatever," Tony brushed it aside. "Their protocols on background checks are _clearly_ lacking.” He shifted, wincing at the movement. “Remind me to never get stuck in an alien hospital again.”

Peter's smile faltered at that, and suddenly he looked more like the 15-year-old Tony first met in his shabby apartment in Queens than the 25-year-old doctoral candidate Tony had been publishing papers with.

“Honestly, Mr. Stark, I'd prefer if you stayed away from _all_ hospitals, alien or not."

Tony dropped his arm, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, have you met me? Not gonna happen. And c'mon, Pete. After saving the world together for ten-ish years? Say it with me now: To-ny.”

"Ahh, yeah, sure," Peter laughed, strained and uncertain. "Okay, uh. Tony." 

He stepped a bit closer to the bed, tentatively, but then Tony was patting the sheets next to him, and giving Peter a meaningful look. Peter had never been very good at saying no to Tony, and that's when he _wasn't_ hooked up to an IV. So Peter hopped up, graceful as ever, perching awkwardly on the edge.

“So, um," Peter figeted, making sure none of their limbs had the chance to touch. "When can we get you out of here?”

“I dunno, Pete,” he admitted. “I got hit pretty bad, and some of us are still cursed with normal human healing. Docs say it might be a few days before I can transfer to the ship's med bay. Or, at least I _think_ that's what they said. Hard to tell with all the tendrils.”

“Oh. Well, a few days isn't _so_ bad.” Peter’s gears started shifting, formulating a plan. “Yeah, I can bring you some stuff from the ship - maybe your tablet? F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s enhanced range should be able to connect out here, right? Plus, I could try and sneak you a cheeseburger from the cafeteria-” Peter made a face. “Well, it’s not really a ‘cheeseburger’ so much as like a green, meat-like patty, but I’m sure I could find some bread, or-“

“Peter Parker," Tony smiled, weak, but fond. "You spoil me.” 

Peter beamed back at him. “Well, what kind of _husband_ would I be if I didn’t?”

****

4\. 

Peter was fidgeting, more so than usual. This place was _really_ fancy. Like, worse than where Tony had taken him on their first official date exactly one year ago. He didn’t even see any prices on the menu. Tony had explained that meant it was a "prix fixe” dinner so the menu was basically just for decoration. Peter put it to good use though, trying to identify each delicious dish after the next, which was difficult considering everything seemed to be “deconstructed,” “reduced,” or “emulsified” within an inch of its life.

As their two servers (seriously, two!) silently whisked away their entrée plates, Tony reached into his pocket, then placed a small velvet box on the table.

Peter stared at it, blinking.

“W-wait,” he stammered. “Is that- are you- _no_ -”

“No?” Tony asked, surprised.

“No! I mean, _yes_!" Peter practically shouted. He was suddenly glad Tony had bought out the entire restaurant. "I mean, if- if that’s what I think it is?”

“Depends.” Tony sat back in his chair, folding his arms, a playful smirk on his lips. “What do you think it is?”

Peter took a deep breath. “You _know_ what I think it is. But I’m gonna feel really stupid if that’s just like, keys to the Audi or something.”

Tony waved that away. “You can borrow the Audi whenever you want, you know that.”

“Okay, so,” Peter bit his lip, uncertain, but hopeful. “Am I right?”

Tony considered him for a moment. “Let’s entertain the possibility, for a moment, that you're right,” he mused. “What kind of answer would I be looking at here?”

“Yes,” Peter nodded, decisive, certain. “Absolutely. No question.”

“Well, alrighty then,” Tony cleared his throat, then slid off his chair, kneeling down on the plush rug beneath their seats.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” he intoned dramatically. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Peter blurted out, almost before Tony had even gotten the words out. “Oh my _god_ , yes.”

Peter leaned in for a kiss, then jumped about a foot in the air when the servers uncorked a bottle of champagne behind him.

But Peter couldn’t care less about champagne right now. He bounced excitedly in his seat as Tony finagled the ring, _his_ ring, onto his finger. It was perfectly sized, of course. Peter giggled, having a sudden vision of Tony measuring his fingers in his sleep. Then he remembered Tony, his _fiancé_ , has a full, interactive schematic of his entire body saved in his hard drive, and he blushed. He twisted his hand around, letting the metal catch the light, memorizing how it looked on his finger.

“So, you’re like, _really_ gonna be my husband now?” Peter marveled. “Like, this is real? Tony Stark: my _husband_?“

“Yeah, Pete,” Tony chuckled, tender, warm. He grasped his hand, bringing it to his lips, and pressing a soft kiss to his ring. “This is really, really real.”

*****

+1

Peter laced their fingers together, feeling the cool slide of metal against his palm.

He scooted along the wide limo seat, settling in next to Tony with a contented sigh. He felt the smooth glide of the road underneath them as he zeroed in his senses on the slow, steady beat of Tony’s heart. He reverently traced the shiny new band around Tony’s finger, staring at it, trying to fathom the enormity of it all. What it all meant, what it all _would_ mean, how his life was going to be completely different, now, _forever_.

He lifted his head off Tony’s shoulder, peaking up at him shyly.

“So, um… hi, husband.” Peter blushed.

“Well, hello to you too, _husband,_ ” Tony pressed a kiss into his hair, pulling him closer.

This time, Peter was like, 99.99% sure it wasn’t a Freudian slip.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Kudos & comments make my heart happy <3
> 
> Fun Fact
> 
> \- The Alpha Quadrant (in Star Trek lore) is home to the “pleasure planet” of Risa. Hence the name/location of my couple’s retreat planet.


End file.
